And How the Cracks Begin to Show
by Calliope Piper
Summary: [PreRENT]. April's story from when she first met Roger until her suicide. Rated M for language and some themes. Completed Oct. 1
1. Since the first day that I met you

Author's note: Okay, once again, I'm doing an April fic (surprise, surprise!), but this isn't going to be a one-shot, but an actual fic with more than one chapter. Enjoy. Please read and review? And props to anyone who can guess what show the name of this chapter is from!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to Jonathan Larson.

* * *

The blonde musician stared at her from across the gym. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen: about 5'5, thin, and had a punk look to her: ripped denim skirt, black fishnet top, and converse high-tops. Her hair was naturally blonde, but she streaked it with black and purple, that went really well with her forest green eyes. He had been watching her since the beginning of senior year—she was a new student at Scarsdale High, and he wanted to be the one to get her before anyone else could. 

"Go talk to her, Roger! All you do is stare at her with this weird look on your face."

"Look who's talking, Mark. Why don't you do the same to Noreen."

"It's _Maur_een," he muttered.

"I know. I just did that to tick you off." Roger grabbed his bag and walked over to where she was, sitting alone near the door. "Hey."

"Hi," she mumbled.

"I'm Roger Davis. Where are you from?"

"April Yeats. From California."

Roger's jaw dropped. "You're from Cali? Where?"

"L.A." she responded tonelessly.

"L.A.? Damn, you're lucky!"

"Yeah, I guess." Awkward silence followed.

"Uh, I like your clothing style. We don't have anyone here that dresses like that."

She beamed, revealing a dazzling smile of perfectly straight, white teeth. "Thanks! I thought no one here would."

He laughed. "I know what you mean. Everyone hates that I only wear black band t-shirts. It's not like I'm part of a cult or something, so what do they care, you know?"

"Yeah! Exactly! Hey, I love your shirt," she commented, gesturing toward his Rolling Stones shirt. "I love the Stones."

"I'm glad someone else does! You're the first one I've met here that likes good music."

"I'm a drummer for a rock band… well, I was before we moved here. I've noticed you carrying around your guitar a lot. You in a band?"

He stared at her with wide eyes. "I've been looking for a drummer! We should jam together sometime."

"Yeah, we should."

"Want to hang out tonight? Jam maybe? Or I could show you around a little. There's a great music shop not too far from here, where the owner lets me hang out at after the shop closes."

"I'd love to, Roger! You're like, the second person who's actually talked to me since I got here."

He looked at her closely. "And who was the first?" He hoped it wasn't another guy.

"You know Maureen Johnson?"

He cringed. "My best friend has a killer crush on her."

She giggled, which was a beautiful sound. "No surprise. Maureen seems like a really nice person. She invited me to the mall and shopping, but I had to decline. That's totally not my thing."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. "Hey April?" he asked, as they walked out together.

"What's up?"

"You're really cool. I'm glad I finally decided to talk to you." _Shit, Roger! That was lame!_

"Thanks. Right back at you. I'm glad you did, too." She winked at him before getting lost in the swarm of teenagers.

_She likes me!_ he thought happily as he walked to class.

* * *

April was waiting for Roger in the front of the school. "Hey front man." 

"How did you know I fronted?"

She smiled. "I have my ways."

"Tell me!" _God, I sound like a 12-year-old! This girl is making me go crazy._

"Well, I asked Maureen about you. She said all she knew was that you came here half way through junior year, fronted some big hot shot band called Waltz, but your bassist and drummer both OD'ed, and you've been looking for a new band since. Oh yeah, and that kid with the camera follows you around everywhere."

He laughed. "Yep! That's about it!"

"So you're almost as new as I am."

Roger shrugged. "I guess. Except that everyone knows me and I know how things work."

"But you don't know everyone."

"True. So um, what are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing. Being bored, I guess."

"Great! I mean, well, you still want to hang?"

She wanted to kiss him right there. He was so gorgeous when he was embarrassed. "Of course! You have a kit at your place?"

"Yeah, but it blows… big time. It's just a snare, bass, high hat, and 2 toms."

"Alright. Want to come over then? I've got a pretty wicked setup."

"Fuck yeah! That works!"

"Okay! Give me your hand." He cautiously held out his hand, not sure what she wanted to do with it. She pulled out a pen and scribbled her number and address on it. "See you later, Rog." She walked away, stopping every few feet to run around and watch him.

Mark ran up to his best friend, completely out of breath. "Are the rumors true, Roger? Are you really going out with the new girl?"

He scowled at his friend. "Fucking rumors." But then he grinned. "But sort of true. I'm going over to her place later." Then, he added, "She's quite good friends with Irene."

"It's _Maur_een, Rog! That's getting really old."

"Fine. Sor-ry! But uh, she's pretty tight with Maureen."

"Is she really?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Yeah. And Maureen knows who you are!" At the hopeful look on Mark's face, he added, "You're the kid with the camera who always follows me around!"

Mark turned bright red and stared at his camera. "Well, at least she knows who I am," he mumbled.

Roger smirked. "If you don't talk to her, I will." He started walking in Maureen's direction, where she was in the midst of her fellow cheerleaders.

"No! Roger! Don't!" Mark pleaded. Too late.

"Maureen?" Roger casually asked her.

"Yeah?" the perky brunette asked.

"See the guy with the camera over there?" He motioned toward Mark. "You see, that's Mark Cohen, my best friend. And he has this huge crush on you but you _intimidate_ him." Roger swung around and called over his shoulder, "Just thought you should know!"

The cheerleaders burst into giggles as Roger approached the blushing "guy with the camera". "I can't believe you just did that!" Mark whined.

"You'll thank me later Anyway, I've got to go meet April later."

"Who?"

"New girl. Remember, I'm going to her house. Yeah, so, uh, I'll see you tomorrow." He picked up his guitar case and leather jacket and began walking toward the direction of April's house.

* * *

There you go! Please review? Okay, soon to come, April and Roger's jam session! 


	2. Music makes the people come together

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It all belongs to Jonathan Larson.

* * *

She lived in a gigantic white house with green shutters. He faintly heard the sounds of drums. He knocked on the door hesitantly. 

A boy, probably thirteen, answered. "Who are you?"

"A friend of April's. Is she here?"

"Yeah. Gosh! I can't believe she has a boyfriend already! April! Somedude is here for you!" he yelled.

April burst through a door that looked like it led to the basement. Drum sticks were tucked into her belt loops. "Thank you, Andrew," she coolly said to the boy. "Come on, Roger." She brought him down into a huge, finished basement which was her room. The walls were painted midnight blue and were covered in posters of various bands. Black nail polish and bottles of hair dye littered her dresser.

He gasped when he saw her setup. There was a huge drum kit, fit to be played by a professional rock band. There was a keyboard, 2 basses, and 3 guitars, along with a saxophone, trumpet, and violin sitting on a table.

"Shit, April! That's fucking amazing!" he babbled.

She laughed at him. "Yeah, it's pretty sick. Okay, um, I'll give you a beat and play whatever." April sat behind her drums and first started with a steady beat: _bass, snare, bass, snare, bass, snare. _Roger began with a chord progression, then progressed onto a wailing version of "Musetta's Waltz."

She stopped drumming the third time through the Waltz. "Roger, what is that shit?"

He stared at her, confused. "What shit?"

She got up and picked up one her guitars and plucked out the song. "That shit."

"It's not shit!" he said defensively. "It's Giacomo Puccini's 'Musetta's Waltz' from the opera _La Boheme._"

April burst out laughing. "I never took you as a classical music snob! No wonder your old band was called 'Waltz'! It all makes perfect sense! It's the only shit you can play!"

He scowled at her. "No it's not! I can play… other stuff."

"You're so cute when you're mad. But okay, Mr. Big Bad Rocker, prove it."

He gulped. "Prove it?"

"You heard me. Prove it." She started the same _bass, snare_ beat and Roger attempted to solo, but always came back to playing the waltz, or something that sounded a lot like the waltz.

"You're pathetic!" she snickered. "And I was expecting a real jam session, not some classical music piece played over and over by an _amateur_ guitarist."

That stung him really hard. "Okay, April. If you can criticize me, let's see what you can do!" he challenged.

"Pick an instrument!" she commanded cockily.

"Uh… guitar."

She laughed again. "Fine, Rog. Be prepared!" She picked up her Fender Strat and played Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven", which turned into a huge solo, then turned into Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here." She triumphantly put the guitar back on its stand and smirked at the shocked Roger standing in front of her with his mouth open. "Happy now?" she asked.

He couldn't even respond, he was so shocked and embarrassed for challenging her. She walked right over to him and kissed him on the cheek, which made him seem to regain his senses somewhat. "You're even cuter when you're shocked." She winked at him. "Anything else you want to see me play?"

"You're fucking amazing! That was the sickest thing I've heard since the Who concert I saw two years ago!"

"Thanks for the compliment. It's quite an honor to be placed in the same category as Pete Townshend."

He grabbed her and pulled her close to him and softly kissed her lips. She was a little shocked, but she returned it. After they pulled away from each other, Roger said, "I've wanted to do that since this morning."

"I kind of figured." She went to her desk and grabbed two cigarettes and a lighter. "You smoked?" she asked as she lit up.

"Not compulsively, but yeah, occasionally."

"Want one?" she offered.

"Sure." He grabbed it as she lit it for him. They sat on the couch, smoking in silence.

After they had both finished their cigarettes, April grabbed his hand and led him back to the setup. "Okay, I want you to play a bunch of chords, and I'll solo. Then, I'm going to teach you how to do it."

As much as he tried, after his "lessons" with April, Roger always went back to the Waltz. April groaned. "Seriously, if I heard that again, I'm going to throw up! It's so annoying! Once is fine, but not every time you play!"

He stuck his tongue out playfully at her. "Let's call it a night. I've got to make my 1:00 curfew or my parents will flip!"

She smiled and sighed. "Alright, pretty boy _front man._ We'll get together over the weekend, right?" she asked hopefully.

He grabbed her face and in his hands and kissed her on the tip of her nose. "I have to work tomorrow, but maybe tomorrow night, okay?"

"Of course!" She reached up and kissed him, then hugged him tightly. "I'll see you tomorrow night then?"

"Sure, April. Good night, babe." He grabbed his guitar and jacket and slipped into the night.

* * *

There you go! Okay, coming up, Mark and Maureen! 


	3. You take my hand, leaving me breathless

Author's note: **SaoirseGreene- **Thank you for your review!

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. It's all Jonathan Larson's.

* * *

"So how was last night?" Mark asked as he restocked the shelves at the grocery store where they both worked. 

"Fucking amazing! She's the coolest girl I've met here!" He went back to rearranging a display of cereal boxes.

"Did you get laid?" Mark asked curiously.

Roger threw a cereal box at him. "No, you fuck! It was only our first, uh… date. And I just met her! I'm not _that_ bad!"

Mark turned red. "Sorry… so, uh, what did you do?"

"You know. Jam, smoke, talk." A grin spread across his face as he nonchalantly walked over to his friend. "How are things between you and that cheerleader? Uh, what's her name? Eileen?"

Mark threw the cereal box back at him. "Didn't I tell you that was getting old?" he sneered. "But, uh, I'm going to talk to her."

"Yeah right. You're too much of a baby to."

No response from Mark.

After awhile of the only sound being moving cans and boxes, Roger broke the silence. "I can ask April to set you up with Maureen."

He lit up. "You would do that for me?"

"Yeah, sure. Because I don't want to see you moping around all day because I have a girlfriend and you don't."

"Um, thanks?"

"No problem, Mark. What do you see in her anyway? From what I hear, all she does is cheer, sleep with the football team, and do drama club. Sure, she's pretty, but I think she's out of your league. You need someone that's more… well, you! You know, a movie buff or a chess club nerd!"

"Hey! That's not cool! I'm not a nerd!"

"Sorry, I take it back. A _geek _is more like it."

"Why do I hang out with you, again?"

"Because of my good looks, charm, sense of music, and oh yeah, I'm the only one that will actually talk to you."

"Ugh. You're right."

"I know. I always am."

When their shift ended, the two boys walked over to the pizza place and sat down at the back table, where they shared a small pie.

Lots of commotion was making its way near their table. Coincidentally, it was Maureen and her cheerleader friends. She was hysterically crying… actually, it was more like wailing.

"Look who it is!" Roger whispered to Mark.

He pulled out his camera and pointed it at them. "Zoom in on Maureen Johnson and clique, mourning some big event over pizza and diet coke."

The guys watched Maureen pour out her sob story to her friends. She was almost unintelligible because of her hysterics. Her friends, however, all seemed to be unsympathetic and glared at her.

Suddenly, one of her friends seemed to remember something about "park" and "team", which made all of them—except Maureen—to squeal and run out, leaving a still-sobbing Maureen.

"Go console her!" Roger hissed.

"But Rog! She doesn't know me!"

"Who cares? Chicks love it if you console them. They want someone to cry on. Don't you know anything?"

Mark shrugged and walked over to her table and sat down across from her. "Um, are you, uh, okay?" He could hear Roger cracking up at their table.

She shook her head and continued to bawl. Mark suddenly got the courage to sit next to her and put his arm around her. The second he did that, she grabbed onto the front of his shirt and buried her head in his shoulder. Mark mumbled any comforting words he could think of. Roger flashed him the thumbs up sign from across the room.

When Mark's shirt was soaked through and Maureen was finished crying, she pulled away from him and sniffled. "Sorry about your shirt."

"It's okay. Um, what happened? Is, uh,everything okay?"

She wiped her eyes and face where her make-up had run with a napkin. "My-my-my boyfriend dumped me because he finally found out that I did theatre! And now the girls might kick me off the squad now!"

"I'm sorry to, uh, hear that!" he told her. _Why didn't I know she had a boyfriend? And I'm not sorry… I'm actually glad. Wow, I can't believe I just thought that! _"But how could he not know you did, um, theatre? You starred in _Pippin_ last year. You made a great Fastrada," he added. "And why would they kick you off the squad because you do theatre?"

"He's a douche bag! I hate him! He's a dickhead that's oblivious to everything! Of course he didn't know… drama and sports are opposite ends of the world at school. And now the girls want me off the squad because first of all, they don't want you doing anything besides cheerleading. And they said that I lied to them! I didn't lie, they just never asked. And I _can_ be committed to both! They're fucks!"

He gave her an "I agree with everything you say as long as you like me" look. "That really sucks, Maureen. I'm sorry you had to go through that, uh, yeah."

"Yeah, well, they can rot as far as I'm concerned. People would kill to have me on their squad!" She then really looked at him for the first time. "You're the camera guy, right? Matt Corden, right?"

"Um, it's Mark Cohen. But yeah, I'm the camera guy." _She almost knows my name!_ he thought.

"I heard that you like me from Roger. Is that true?"

He felt himself turn red. "Yeah." _Kill me now!_

"Um, you seem like a really nice guy, Mack. It's not every guy that comes and comforts a girl they barely know."

"It's Mark.. but, um, thanks."

She jumped up, causing him to almost fall off the chair. "Mark, do you want to go to the movies tonight? I'm going to be so bored! You see, usually I go out with the squad, but now they're all mad at me and I hate them, and I'll be so lonely because they won't be with me… not that I care… and I always need someone and—"

"Okay, Maureen. We can go tonight. Um, I'll have to check with my mom."

She giggled randomly. "Do you have any friends that could come? How 'bout Roger and April? I like them."

Mark breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll go ask him." He ran to where a smirking Roger sat.

"Did she already scare poor Marky away?"

"No! She wants to go to the movies tonight with her, and she wants you and April to go with us!"

Roger high-fived his friend. "Way to go, Mark! And yeah, I'm totally in if I can get April to go."

Mark ran back over to Maureen. "Sure, he's totally in if he can get April to go," he quoted.

Maureen hugged Mark so hard that he couldn't breathe. "Tonight at 7:00, okay? There's a movie I want to see playing at that time. I'll see you there, okay?"

"Uh, yeah! Bye!" he called as she skipped away.

"Wow, I've got to compliment you," Roger said as he strode over to a dumb-struck Mark. "You really know how to work with the ladies. Why didn't you have a girlfriend before?" he asked sarcastically.

"Shut up, Roger!"

"You were SO red and stuttered half of the time. It was hilarious!"

"But at least I've got a date! Tonight at 7 at the movie theater, and you and April better be there!"

* * *

When Roger got home, he immediately called April. "Can you go to the movies tonight?"

"Um, sure! What time?"

"Seven, and Mark and Maureen are also going."

He heard her giggle. "So those two finally got together?"

"Yeah… so I'll see you there?"

"Okay. Bye!" April happily hung up the phone and raided her closet, looking for something to wear. She found everything… and nothing. "Fuck it!" she said to the empty room. She grabbed her phone and dialed Maureen.

"Hellooooooo?" came a drawn out answer.

"Maureen? It's April."

"April! How art thou?" She was in a much better mood.

"I need your help. Um, you know how we're going out tonight? I don't know what I should wear."

Maureen paused. "Hmm…" she finally said. "I think you should go black top, preferably lace. Maybe some leather in there. Make it sexy!"

April laughed. "And what are _you_ going to wear?"

"That's easy! Leather pants, stilettos, and this tight pink lace low-cut spaghetti strap top that shows off my belly button ring!"

_I wonder what else it shows off. _"Wow. Okay, um, I'll go raid my closet. I'll se you later."

She went back into her closet and pulled out her red pleather skirt and knee-high black boots. She decided on a black lace top, going with Maureen's suggestion. She applied heavy black eyeliner, blue shimmer eye shadow, and straightened her hair so it appeared silky and beautiful. She put on black hoop earrings and grabbed a little black bag. She was ready.

When she got to the movie theater a few minutes before 7, only Maureen was there, wearing exactly what she said she would. Maureen tightly hugged her. "April chica! You look beautiful! You took my advice!"

"Um, yeah. You look great too!"

"I know I do!"

Roger and Mark both walked in. Roger was in a sleeveless black AC/DC t-shirt and ripped stonewashed jeans. Mark had on a red t-shirt and khakis. He looked very out of place.

"You look beautiful," Roger whispered to April. "Want to go in?"

Maureen grabbed Mark's hand. "Come on, Pookie! They're going to start the movie without us!"

The four of them bought their tickets and walked into the theater where the film was showing and sat in the back row: Roger next to April, who was next to Maureen, who was next to Mark.

The minute the movie started, April didn't wait snuggling with Roger, then progressing to sitting on his lap and making out the majority of the movie.

Mark, on the other hand, was feeling a bit uncomfortable. He had his arm around Maureen and she had her head on his shoulder, but he didn't know how far he wanted to with her, and if he wanted to go anywhere at all. He had never had a girlfriend before and wasn't sure exactly what to do. And it wasn't like he could ask Roger, who was a bit… preoccupied… about what to do. He had to figure it out on his own.

Halfway through the movie, Maureen moved her way to straddling Mark and kissing him out of nowhere. He gasped and wasn't sure how to respond.

"Go for it!" Roger hissed at him during one of his get-some-air breaks.

_Yeah, that from a guy who has both of his hands up her shirt,_ he thought. But he did take the advice and kissed Maureen back.

* * *

Okay, there it is! More to come: the gang talks about college and other things... 


	4. The walls are cracked and falling down

Author's Note: Okay, so I decided that it really wasn't necessary to put everything that happens between the movies and college, so I'm breaking that down. Also, when they get to college, I decided not to include a lot… well, you'll see why.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all the property of Jonathan Larson.

* * *

The months leading up to graduation went very smoothly. The four of them were inseparable. Maureen wasn'tkicked off the squad but decided that she was too good for them anyway,and resorted to spending all of her time in drama or holding school riots. April and Roger formed a band called the Well Hungarians, which became even bigger than Waltz. Mark became organizer of the Film Club. Everything was running perfectly (except that Roger and Maureen were always fighting) until they had to think about college. 

"I'm going to Brown. I was perfectly content with a SUNY (A/N: State University of New York), but my mother said it had to be Ivy Leagues or nothing."

"But Pookie! That's in Rhode Island! I want to go and be on Broadway!"

Roger snickered. "Maureen, you have no shot."

"And you have no shot of making it big either, you rock star wanna-be!" she screeched.

"I'm better than you ever thought of being!"

April kicked him from under the lunch table. "Stop it, you guys! I'm so sick of the two of you always fighting! Now, I'm going to SUNY Purchase with Roger. Mo, you should really think of actually going somewhere in case Broadway doesn't work," she offered.

"Well, I got into WCC (A/N: Westchester Community College), SUNY Albany, and SUNY Purchase!"

"You need to pick somewhere soon. Deadlines for applications are coming up."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe I just won't go to college."

"You're going to college," April commanded.

She growled. "You're not my mother, April!"

"Fine. Piss away your future. I don't care," she retorted.

This caused Maureen to burst into sobs. "You don't mean that! You do care, don't you?"

She sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just want you to do well."

"I know. Maybe I'll just go to WCC or Purchase. I don't care." This earned an eye roll from April.

Maureen got the lead in Jesus Christ Superstar that year, the Well Hungarians won Battle of the Bands, and Mark's film was a smash. They all graduated and went their separate ways for that first semester of college.

The first semester for April and Roger seemed to be a string of sex, pot, booze,and parties. April was getting tired of it. "Rog, I'm hating college. We can do so much better in New York City."

"Yeah we could, especially if the band takes off. I wonder how Mark and Maureen are doing."

The four of them met up at the pizza place in Scarsdale a few days before the end of the first semester.

"April and I are dropping out and moving to the city. What about you two?"

Mark fidgeted in his chair. "I was thinking the same thing. My mother will probably never talk to me, but this isn't working out. It's too much. And I can take classes inNYC if I need to. Maybe I'm just not ready for college. My roommate Benny and I were both planning to drop out and maybe room together. The rent would be cheaper that way. How about you, Mo?"

Maureen sat there, smiling this huge smile and practically bouncing up and down. "I told you so! I told you that college wasn't good and we should've never wasted our money in the first place! I was right and all of you were wrong! I knew it! None of you listened to me! And April, now we're all going to ruin our futures, right? Huh? Right? I told you so!"

Roger scowled at her. "Okay, Maureen. We get it. Now," he looked at Mark and April, "what do we do?"

"Start looking for an apartment?" offered Mark.

"Yeah, I'm agreeing with Mark on this one. We should look for something affordable. How about in Chelsea? Is that affordable?" April asked.

"_I used to have a girlfriend known as Elsie. With whom I shared assorted rooms in Chelsea..._" Maureen sang. Then, at the glares from her friends, she added, "No way! I'm not going to live in Chelsea! Upper West Side!"

Mark interrupted them. "I was thinking of the East Village. The other two I think are out of our price range."

"Fine. Deal?" Roger asked his friends.

"Deal!" they all said, even though Maureen was still mad about not looking in the Upper West Side.

The next day, Mark's roommate, Benjamin Coffin III, met them. He was a good looking black man whose ambition in life was to become rich. April, Roger, and Maureen all liked him a lot. They all agreed to start looking for an apartment in the East Village.

April scanned the paper, looking for an apartment ad. "Guys! Guys! I've got it! Listen to this!" They all crowded around her as she read. "_Apartment up for rent… looking for roommates. Two bedroom industrial loft, on the corner of 11th Street and Avenue B. Please call Professor Thomas P. Collins!_"

Maureen squealed and hugged Roger, who pushed her off. "Pookies! It's perfect! Let's call!" She grabbed the phone and called the number listed. "Hi, is this Thomas Collins?"…. "Yeah, I'm Maureen Johnson and my friends and I want to rent the apartment"…. "You'll be living there? Awesome! The more the merrier!"…. "Okay, we'll all meet you there tomorrow at noon. Bye!"

"Um, Maureen?"

"What is it, Marky?"

"There are five of us, plus him… six people in two bedrooms?"

April thought about it. "Well, Rog and I can take one, and you and Mark can have the other, and then we can turn the living room into 2 bedrooms! And if there's an overly large closet, well, we could use that too."

They all murmured their agreements and called it a deal.

* * *

The five of them walked up to the dilapidated building, hoping that the inside was better than the outside. Next door, there was a vacant lot. A black man with glasses, who appeared to be a few years older than them, was standing outside. 

"Are one of you Maureen Johnson?"

"It's meeeeeeeeeeeee!" she screeched.

"I'm Tom Collins, but you can call me just Collins. I teach computer-age philosophy at NYU. I'm glad you all called. I've been waiting for awhile for someone to answer the ad." His voice was very deep. "Do you want to see the place?"

They followed him inside. Paint was cracking all over, and it seemed to be colder in there than outside. "No heat?" April asked.

Collins laughed, though no one else found anything funny. "We're all struggling artists, I guess you could say, living here. We can't afford heat or AC. New York is a lot more expensive than where you're all from."

Maureen looked at April, shocked. "April!" she hissed. "How will we survive?"

"Don't worry," Collins told her. "It's not that bad. Just have a lot of warm clothes during the winter."

He stopped at the top of a staircase. "Here it is!" he announced and pushed open the door.

It seemed pretty big. There was a spacious living room with a tiny kitchen. A wood burning stove sat near the window. There were four doors surrounding the room: two were bedrooms, one bathroom, and one storage closet. All of the paint was chipping and the furniture was old. Every electrical appliance was plugged into one thick extension chord that snaked its way out the window.

Roger was the first to speak. "We'll take it!"

"We will?" Maureen croaked. "But it's cold and everything is so beat up!"

"You're such a princess! _Some _of us didn't grow up in a giant house with a maid and gardener!" he snapped at her. He turned to April, Mark, and Benny. "Well? What do you think?"

April and Benny nodded. Mark, however, felt the way Maureen did. "Um, it's a little run-down, don't you think?"

Roger gave him a death stare. "You are such a snob, Mark! The rent will be low, and we've got space. We'll be fine! And it's in New York City!"

"Center of the Universe!" Collins added, hoping like hell that they'd agree to move in.

He sighed. "Fine. Let's get it."

Maureen pouted. "But… but…"

"Go find your own place if you don't like it," Roger informed her. "You don't have to be with us."

She glared at him. "I… I'll do it."

Mark hugged his girlfriend. "Okay, Collins. When can we move in?"

* * *

There you have it! Please review? More to come: our favorite Bohemians get jobs and one of them finds something that'll change all of their lives. 

**godessofwisdom- **Thanks very much for your review! I'm glad you liked my Mark/Maureen explanation.

**SaoirseGreene-** Thanks again for your reviews!


	5. Actin' Funny but I Don't Know Why

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. I don't own any of these characters or RENT. It's all the property of Jonathan Larson.

* * *

After a few weeks, the loft was transformed into a place suitable for them to live in. Their dorm furniture decorated the loft and Maureen and April decided to give the living room a paint job, which covered up all of the stains. They cleaned up the place so that it didn't look as bad as it did. Benny took over the large storage closet as his "room", and a portion of the living room was curtained off as Collins' "bedroom" (he didn't mind giving up the room he originally had for one of the couples). April's drum kit and other instruments cluttered bits of every room. 

They were sitting on the furniture when April realized something. "Um, guys, since our parents aren't paying anything for us considering they're all still fuming that we've dropped out, we all need jobs."

Maureen smiled. "Guess where I was today?"

"Um, clubs?" Roger sarcastically asked.

"No, silly! I auditioned for the midnight showings of the Rocky Horror Picture Show! They want me as Janet!"

"That's great, Mo! Congratulations!" April told her best friend.

"Okay, well, A and I will go gig hunting soon," Roger said.

"Mo! Were they still auditioning?" April suddenly asked, completely blocking out Roger's comment.

"Yeah! Why?"

"Give me the address. I'm going to audition! I can sing and Time Warp and act. It'll be a blast!"

"April!" Roger whined, "don't waste your talent on that shit!"

"Its _money_, Rog! I'll stop by there later."

Benny had news for his friends. "I'm actually going to finish out college here in the city, or maybe commute to Westchester. I've got to complete school."

Mark was confused. "I thought you hated college?"

"Yeah, I do. But it's easier to get a job with a college education."

The other four rolled their eyes. "Okay, I guess I'll work at some store or something," Mark suggested to himself out loud.

"Alright. It's settled then."

It turns out, April was cast as Magenta, so two out of the five of them had jobs.

Roger gig hunted but couldn't find anything. When April wasn't doing the show, she was practicing with Roger. One day during their practice, she became really upset. "Roger, we're good together, but we need a bassist. Drums and guitar isn't cutting it. It's not like we're in high school anymore, you know?We need someone who can write songs that don't have that stupid waltz in them."

As if on cue, Maureen burst in. She noticed the upset look on her friend's face and marched up to Roger. "What did you do to her?" she screeched at him.

"Nothing, Mo! You're always accusing me!"

"Roger, calm down! Maureen, I think we need a bassist to make our band _really_ good."

She gasped and grinned. "You know Dave who plays Riff Raff in the cast?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"He plays the bass and writes songs!"

April looked at her boyfriend. "That's it! Then we can go play for clubs and stuff! There's always stuff in the papers needing _real_ bands that don't sound like classical music electrified!"

He shrugged off the comment about classical music. "Alright, April. Get him in here."

The next day, Dave, who was this tall blonde who had this annoying tendency of saying the word "man" after most of his sentences, showed up at the loft with his bass. The three of them had a long jam session. April was beaming, and Roger kept throwing her approving looks.

"Dave," he asked, "how would you like to be in our band?"

"For the money, sure, man. And chicks dig guys who play in bands."

And that was the start of the new Well Hungarians. Roger booked them gigs at CBGB's, the Pyramid Club, and other local clubs. Before their first gig, backstage, Dave was shooting up.

"What are you doing?" Roger yelled at him.

"Smack. Good shit, man. You ever done it?"

He shook his head. "And I'm not planning to." But he was curious.

"Sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll, man. Live it up. Drugs make you fly, man. You'll love it."

Roger looked around cautiously, hoping that April wasn't looking. "Is it really that good?"

"You ever try pot?"

"Sure. Me and April used to smoke it a lot in school."

"Think of a pot-high a million times better, man."

He was tempted. It did sound pretty good. He used to love getting stoned, and this sounded even better. "Alright. I'll try it." Dave gave him the needle, already filled with white powder.

"Do exactly what I did. Just shoot it up, man."

He shakily held the needle and pressed it into his arm. He bit his lip at the pain of the needle penetrating his skin. But then he felt lightheaded, like he was on a cloud, floating on air. It made him feel relaxed, like all of his worries just went away. His heart began to race a million miles per hour as he started to see two of everything.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Dave asked, referring to the weird grin that had crept across Roger's face.

"Uh, what's going on?"

"You're high, man! It's great!"

He started giggling uncontrollably and his entire body tensed. Everything he saw blurred together.

"Roger? Roger? Speak to me! Are you okay? Dave, what happened? What'd you give him?"

"Nothing heavy, April baby. Just some smack."

"That's… that's heroin! It _is_ heavy shit! Are you fucking crazy Dave? He's freaking out over here!" Roger passed out. "Now what do I do, Dave? He's out cold!"

"He'll be fine, babe. Let's go play."

She telephoned Mark and worriedly left Roger on the back couch for someone to come and get him. That night, April played the role of front woman, singing a bunch of songs that just sounded strange coming from a female. Dave played drums. The crowd surprisingly liked it. The minute the set was finished, April ran home as quickly as possible.

Roger was completely passed out, laying on the couch, with Mark nervously sitting next to him. "How is he?" she frantically asked, rushing to his side.

"Steady pulse. Collins said he'd be fine."

She sighed in relief. "Thank god!"

The two of them watched him all night and into the morning, joined by Maureen at around 4 A.M. At around noon, he came out of his previous drug state.

He blinked repeatedly as the light blinded him. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

April had contained her anger at him for giving in to temptation all night, and now was her time to explode. "You fucking idiot, Roger Davis! What the hell were you thinking, taking heroin? I thought you were smarter than that! Just because Hendrix and Cobain did heavy shit doesn't mean that you can do it too, asshole! Don't _ever_ scare me like that! I thought you were going to go into a coma or die or something! Pot is one thing, but smack is in a totally different league! You could've died! That's the last thing I ever want!" she cried.

"Sorry, A. I didn't know what I was getting into. I guess I won't do that again."

"You better not!"

"Sorry…" he mumbled again.

"Okay, no more gigs for a _long_ time. I can't let you be tempted by anything again."

"Fine. Whatever." He got up moodily and disappeared into the kitchen.

"What do we do, Mark? I can't watch him 24/7!"

"I know. No one can."

She put her head in her hands. "I'm so scared for him! Roger's got a really addictive personality. He was a huge pothead and drinker in college. I only made us both stop because all he'd do was get high and drunk! How is he going to be like with this?"

He put his arm around her. "It's okay. He'll get through it. We'll just be here to help him. He's not a baby."

"Yeah, well, a baby would be easier to watch."

* * *

There you have it! Please review?I didn't really like this chapter all that much, and I promise the next ones are better...And I'm sorry if I got the facts wrong while Roger was high (I've never been high, so I'm not exactly sure what you feel... I came up with that after researching the internet)... Okay, more to come: Roger breaks some promises (surprise surprise), and an appearance from another RENT character not previously mentioned. Also, something bad happens to April... 2 more chapters left. 

**Amanda: **Thanks SOOO much for your reviews! I'm glad you liked that Rog and April hooked up in the first and second chapters.


	6. Where do I go?

Author's Note: Okay, this chapter took me forever to write, not sure how I wanted to go with the story. So I hope you like the way it is. And thank you for all of your reviews. Keep them coming!

Disclaimer: You know it's not mine. Never was, never will be. It's Jon Larson's.

* * *

"Where's Roger?" April asked as she walked into the living room wearing one of his shirts. 

"Out," Benny responded.

"Again? He's always out! I haven't seen him in over 24 hours!"

"I know. He's probably out getting high."

"That's not funny!"

Benny stared at her. "I'm serious."

* * *

Roger grabbed his leather jacket and went for a walk, trying to think of what to do. The smack felt _really_ good. He thoroughly enjoyed getting high. However, he hated how upset April was every time he came home like that. So he didn't go home—he stayed at one of his Dave's or one of Dave's friends' places. 

_Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her._ He went to go look for Dave, hoping he'd have another stash. He was walking down the street when a tall man in a long black coat approached him.

"Heyyy…"

"Do I know you?" Roger asked. Maybe they met when he was smashed or high or something.

"They call me The Man."

"Uh, hi?" _Who the hell is this guy?_

"I heard from your friend Dave that you are into heroin."

"Yes…"

"Well? How is it?"

Her look around cautiously. "I_ love _it!" he whispered. "Except it pisses off my girlfriend."

"So I've heard."

Roger stared at this guy. "How do you know these things?" he asked curiously.

The man laughed… a very strange sound. "I know quite a lot. So, do you want some more? A few more hits, perhaps?"

He dug into his pockets. "I only have $5."

"Fine. Good enough." The Man took the money and exchanged it for a needle and a small bag of white powder. "Sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll, Roger. Now you have all three."

Roger ducked into the alleyway and shot up, feeling the high again. This time, like the last few times, he didn't pass out, but felt _good_.

He couldn't go back to the loft. April would kill him! Mark would probably call the cops on him, and Maureen would most likely want to get high, too.

He stumbled his way around and ended up at the Cat Scratch Club, where a young Latina girl was dancing around half naked, handcuffed to a lawn chair. He watched her, fascinated. He wanted to meet her so badly at that moment… she was beautiful. Why was she there instead of school?

Roger laughed out loud at the question, thinking the same thing about himself.

The laugh caught the attention of the dancer. After she finished her act, she strode over to him and sat on his lap, running her fingers through his hair.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"They call me the Feline of Avenue B." She noticed the track marks on his arms, and her attitude immediately changed. "Good luck with the junk," she whispered and went back to dancing on the stage.

Roger took another look at her, grabbed his jacket, and went back into the streets. It was getting dark, and he needed somewhere to go… his last hit was wearing off. He couldn't remember who's place he stayed at last. Was the loft a safe place? _Sure. Why not? What's the _worst _they could do to me?_

He went back to the loft, feeling perfectly fine. Maybe they wouldn't notice that he was high. Well, he hoped like hell they wouldn't notice.

Roger walked nonchalantly into the living room. He wasn't expecting five pairs of eyes staring at him. April ran up to him, fuming mad. "Where the hell were you, Roger?" she yelled.

"Out! I can roam the city without all of you."

Collins glared at him. "Take off your jacket." When Roger refused, Collins ripped it off of him and grabbed his arm. "I can't fucking believe you, Roger! You _promised_. You said you weren't going to shoot up again!" he scolded as he looked at the fresh track marks.

"What I do is none of your fucking—"

Collins slammed him into the wall and pinned him there. "Look, _Roger_," he said, getting right into the blonde's face, "I may have only known you for half a year, but I know that this is going to slowly kill you! Stop being a selfish asshole and think about what your behavior is causing us." He flung him to the floor and walked away, into his "room."

April knelt at his side. "Rog," she said, tears brimming her eyes, "you _promised._ You lied to me…" she looked around at the others, "to us."

He moved himself up into sitting position. "Look, April and the rest of you, what I do is none of your business! It's not like I do it around you!"

"Is it really that good?" Maureen excitedly asked.

"Maureen!" Mark, Benny, and April all yelled.

"Sor-ry! I just wanted to know!"

Roger smiled at her, a change from the usual yelling and insults. "Fucking amazing! It's like flying and running at the same time… it's better than sex and playing gigs."

April almost choked. "_Excuse_ me?"

"No offense about the sex, thing A. You're great and all, but—"

"Rog, you need to get off the junk. Stop it before you get addicted," Benny advised, not wanting to hear any more about April and how good she was in bed.

"That's the last time, I promise! I'm finished with it."

Mark, who had been pretty quiet the entire time, finally spoke up. "Roger, I'm saying this only as your friend, because I hate seeing you like this. But I _will_ call the police on you if it ever happens again, and if I catch you with it in possession."

"You don't mean that!" April gasped. "You wouldn't do that."

"I do mean it. And I would. I mean every word."

Roger sighed in frustration. "Stop pretending I'm five fucking years old, would you? I can take care of myself, thank you very much. And I promised I wouldn't do it again, didn't I?"

"You said that last time," Benny mumbled under his breath.

"He's right, Rog. You promised before, multiple times, and look how that turned out."

"God, April! Can't you trust me?"

"Yeah, but—"

"No buts. I'll stop, okay?" He folded his arms and glared at her, waiting for the answer.

She didn't want to make him any madder than he already was, and decided to drop the subject. "Okay," she murmured doubtfully.

* * *

Of course, Roger didn't keep his promise. He found other guys that he'd shoot up with and would stay at their places for days at a time. April and Mark were constantly freaking out and even talked about calling the police to find Roger. 

But he'd always turn up high, swearing he wouldn't do it again. And they'd let him off the hook, again and again, hoping that he'd change.

He hadn't played his guitar since he first discovered heroin; April missed "Musetta's Waltz," something she never thought she'd think. When he wasn't out getting high, all he'd want to do was have sex—not that April minded or anything, but she wanted their relationship to be like the way it was before smack entered their lives.

Collins had completely stopped talking to Roger, who didn't even notice. Benny was always doing schoolwork in the loft, rarely talking to him, too. Maureen kept trying to get on Broadway, but she was still stuck doing midnight showings of Rocky Horror with April… Dave had dropped from the cast and was usually with Roger, getting completely high and/or trashed.

It couldn't have gotten any worse for April… or could it?

* * *

Of course it'll get worse for April... for the next chapter, the rating will be M. It's the last chapter, and well, a lot goes on in it. I'm sure you can guess what the big event is, but the other ones leading to it? Well, you'll see. 


	7. Why God, Why?

Author's note: I wrote and rewrote this chapter so many times. I wasn't sure who the big character would be in this chapter, but after changing it a million times, well, I hope you like it. And if you don't like strong language, don't read any more. Thank you for all of your reviews. Keep them coming!

Disclaimer: RENT's not mine, though I wish I did own it. It's Mr. Larson's.

* * *

"Aprillllll!" Maureen yelled while banging on the bathroom door. "Are you okay in there? You've been there for, like, an hour!" When there was no answer, she pushed open the bathroom door and gasped at the sight of her best friend, positively green, throwing up into the toilet. Her now red hair hung limply around her face. "A! What happened?"

April felt way too sick to answer. Her head was filled up, and her stomach felt like someone had beat the crap out of it. She felt dizzy and light-headed. She shook her head at Maureen.

Maureen knelt down next to April. "You need a doctor. I'll bring you there! You look like shit! I'll make Marky drive us." She got up and called Mark, who was filming on the fire escape. "Pooooookie! Get the car! We're bringing April to the doctor's!"

The three Bohemians drove in silence to April's doctor. She had to wait almost an hour-- in which she spent the majority of the time in the bathroom-- to see Dr. Handel. She was poked and prodded and given a bunch of blood tests, then given antibiotics for the virus she had.

After almost three days of the virus, she was fine, but then came the worry about the blood tests that would have the results in two weeks time.

During those two weeks, things went slowly. She did the show twice a week, then spent the rest of the time working at a local coffee shop and spending time with her friends. Oh yes, she also worried all the time about where Roger was and why she kept believing he would stop shooting up.

* * *

One night, when April was at the loft alone, a fuming Roger stormed in, high and reaking of alcohol, a bottle of beer in his hand. "You little slut! You've been fucking the Man this entire time?"

She hadn't ever seen him like this before; she started to get scared. "What are you talking about?" she asked slowly and tonelessly, hoping not to piss him off any more than he already was.

"Why are you lying, bitch? Why did the guys tell me that they saw you with him?" He threw the beer against the wall, shattering it into hundreds of pieces.

"Roger! Calm down! I don't know who or what you're talking about!" she cried.

"Stop playing dumb! I should've known you were a little whore!" He took a step closer to where she was standing, causing her to move back into the table.

"Stop it, Rog! I never did anything like that! I'd never do anything to hurt you!"

"Except fuck him! I knew you were goddamn cheating on me!" he yelled, and slapped her hard-- so hard that her head smashed into the edge of the table and collasped onto the floor. Roger stormed out of the loft, slamming the door so forcefully that it shook the room as he left.

April lay there for a long time, hurting too much to get up. There was blood running down her face, from where her head connected with the table. Her cheek stung from where Roger's rough hand hit it. _He didn't know what he was doing... he loves me, right? He was wasted and high-- he'd never do that sober. Fuck! I shouldn't have let him go out! It's the drugs that's making him act like this. I know he wouldn't do this to me. He loves me! He loves me! He... Does he love me? Or does he love that bag of powder more?_

She began sobbing hysterically, something she hadn't done in awhile. Everything that had been building up inside her finally poured out and she couldn't seem to stop. She could taste her tears and her blood, both running down her face. Her head pounded and she began to feel dizzy and sick, like she was going to throw up.

The loft door opened to someone coming home, whistling. That turned into a gasp at the sight of the redhead collasped on the foor. Collins dropped his umbrella and rushed to her side. He held her in his arms as she cried, slowly building up rage at Roger. He grabbed napkins from his pocket and held them against her cut, hoping to stop the blood flow. He had always liked April, and hated that she had to put up with Roger's addiction. April eventually stopped crying and lay there in his arms, her head buried into his shoulder. "It was Roger, wasn't it?

She nodded. "He- he- he was drunk and high and- and he accused me of cheating on him with some guy!" Silent tears streamed down her face.

"And he hit you?"

She nodded.

"He's really going to get it, don't you worry." He carried the crying girl and laid her down on the couch. "When he gets back, he'll have hell to pay. It's one thing to get high, but it's another to get violent about it." He sat with her, gently rubbing her back as she continued to cry. Collins was never a violent man, but he knew how to fight. As much as he didn't want to, he'd fight Roger if necessary, especially to protect April.

They both heard footsteps coming up the stairs leading to the loft. The steps were heavy, and they could hear cursing. Roger, for the second time that night, came charging into the loft. Seeing Collins holding April completely set him off. "You really are a tramp! You're banging a prick who doesn't even like girls! Only a skank like you would do that!"

Collins got up and stood between Roger and the couch. "That junk has gotten to your head, Roger. And how _dare_ you hit her?" He stepped closer to Roger and forcefully shoved him toward the door.

The wasted musician stumbled but slowly got back up and punched Collins in the stomach. He buckled over, his breath knocked out. Roger thought he had won the fight, but Collins recovered quickly. He pushed Roger, sending him out of the apartment. The two men stood there on the landing before the steps, glaring at each other. As Collins stared at him, he noticed that Roger's eyes were like marbles.

Roger stepped forward quickly and landed a punch right into Collins' jaw. He fell back against the wall, but had quicker reflexes than Roger, so he threw him into the stair railing. Roger fell hard and stayed on the floor on his hands and knees, bleeding and breathing heavily.

Collins ducked into the apartment, locked the door, and dragged the table in front of it, convinced that the enraged junkie couldn't set foot inside. He felt blood running down his face and into his mouth. His stomach felt like there was a gaping hole in it. There was no doubt in his mind that there would be bruises. He went into the kitchen, cleaned off the cut on his jaw, and got an ice pack. When he got back into the living room, April wasn't there. He checked her room, Mark's room, his room, and the bathroom, but she wasn't anywhere.

She was on the fire escape in the pouring rain, shaking heavily-- from cold or crying, or both. She always found that the rain soothed her and made it easier to think. _Roger doesn't love me. He loves those stupid drugs. He wouldn't hit me otherwise. He wouldn't hit Collins if he didn't love the junk above all things. _

"April?" She didn't respond, but stared at the black nothingness in front of her. "April, you're gong to get get sick out here." Still no response. He stepped out into the rain and knelt beside her. "Please go back inside? I don't want you getting sick. You don't need that."

She rocked back and forth, teeth chattering loudly, water dripping down her face. "I don't care."

"Don't say that."

"I don't care if I get sick, okay? It doesn't matter anymore! Roger doesn't love me. Why is there a reason to live?" she asked him and the wet city of New York over the sound of rain and thunder.

Collins gasped. "April, chances are he didn't know what he was doing. Drugs and booze will make a person do crazy things. I'm sure he'll get over this stupid addiction of his." Though what he really wanted to say was, "Roger's an asshole. Dump him before you get hurt even more than you are now!"_ Why did I just defend him? _But he knew the answer. It was only to calm her down.

She looked at him with hopeful eyes. "Do you really think so?"

He sighed. "Actually, I don't know. Roger could have so many things going on in his head. I don't know he might do, or if he knew what he was doing. Now, let's go in." He helped her back inside and immediately got her a towel. "Go get dried off and go to bed. I'll make sure no one comes into the loft."

April went into her room and quickly changed into pajamas, then came right back out. "I don't want to be alone."

"I don't blame you," he mumbled to himself. "Okay, then you can have my bed tonight, and I'll be here on the couch to keep Roger out. We'll fix everything tomorrow."

April crawled into Collins' bed and instantly fell asleep.

* * *

**L.M. Ward-- **Thanks for your review! I'm glad that you liked my Mimi introduction!

**Born2Bbad--** Yes, Roger is a naughty boy! But he, of course, turns around by the start of the show! I'm glad you like it!

Okay, folks, one more chapter! Yes, just ONE MORE. And then it'll all be over. So please review!


	8. Goodbye, Cruel World

Author's Note: Okay, this is the last chapter in this fic. If you aren't into reading about suicide, then please don't read. Thank you for all of your reviews and the support that you've given me while writing this fic. Please review!

Disclaimer: As you know, this doesn't belong to me, but to the late Jonathan Larson, who I'm in HUGE debt to for borrowing his story and his characters and for sharing with us the wonderful thing called RENT.

* * *

The next morning, she received a call from her doctor, who insisted that she come in for the results of her blood tests. Collins dropped her off, making her promise to call if it was anything bad.

"Miss Yeats, please have a seat." _Oh shit, here it comes, _she thought as she sat down. "As you know, we took many blood tests a few weeks ago. The results came in last night. I'm sorry to inform you, April, but you have been infected with the Human Immunodeficiency Virus, commonly known as HIV. I am not sure how you came to have this, but you have most likely had it for months, since it has advanced to the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome--"

"AIDS?" she croaked, unable to comprehend what she had just heard. "How is that possible?"

"Like I siad before, we cannot determine how it happened. You could have gotten it from anyone, or anything. Now, I'm giving you a prescription for AZT, which will help slow down the attacking virus."

April took the prescription and the test results, along with a brochure about AIDS, and walked slowly out of the office, swallowing back the tears that were on the brink of spilling out. She wiped her eyes and called Collins from the payphone to pick her up.

"How'd it go?" he asked as they drove home.

"Fantastic. The tests were negative," she lied and forced a smile.

"Good to hear!" he said, and patted her shoulder. "I'm going to drop you off, then I'm meeting a student at the Life Cafe.Will you be okay on your own?" When she nodded, he said, "You know I'm always here for you, April. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks, Collins. Bye." The moment he sped off, she fled into the loft and burst into sobs the minute she closed the door. She ran into the living room and, making sure no one was there, flopped on the couch_. I can't take this anymore! Roger hates me, and now we've got AIDS... oh my god, AIDS! That means that I'll die in a matter of time. Shit, I can't live like that! I don't want to die in a hospital bed hooked up to every machine possible. That's not me... that's... that's... fuck, I can't do this._

She got up and walked over to her beloved drum kit. She began drumming the hell out of it, hoping to get out her sadness, anger, and frustration, but it only made her tired. She instead kicked it hard, hoping to destroy it, but it barely made a dent_. I can't even do that right! My life is such a mess... I'm not going to live like this_! She dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door_. Sharp, sharp... something sharp .Six people here and not a single razor_? She frantically searched the tiny bathroom and found a razor in the medicine cabinet. She put it on the sink, needing to take care of other business first.

She needed to tell them that she... and Roger... had AIDS. She didn't want to write a long note or anything, just something that would get it across. She decided on scrawling on the mirror "WE'VE GOT AIDS" in the first thing she found: Maureen's purple eyeliner.

She never thought she'd kill herself... she never even thought about it before. But at this point, there was no reason for living. She would only suffer more in the next few years before her death anyway; more abuse from Roger and a sickly immune system. To live like that wasn't worth living at all.

_Okay, how do I go about doing this? In the movies they always seem to do it in the tub... for what reason? Maybe after they're passed out they drown so they're not kept alive? Baths are nice... I'll do that! _She filled the tub with warm water and waited until it was completely full before climbing in-- fully clothed-- with the razor in hand.

April took all of the many bracelets she wore on each wrist off so her veins were completely exposed. The razor felt heavy in her hand. Did she really want to go through this?

"Yes," she whispered. Now was a good a time as any-- no one was home and she never had to face Roger again.

_Roger... oh, Roger_! Would he miss her_? No, he'd be too high to notice I was gone. Or he'd be to busy slapping around other people_, she bitterly thought._ Yes, this is the best thing to do now... for everyone._

She uncapped the plastic razor and brought it down heavily on her arm.

Nothing.

She tried again.

Still nothing.

"Fuck! I can't even do this shit right!" she screamed. She angrily threw the razor at the wall and got out of the tub, soaking wet. She took the eyeliner and wrote "P.S. You can't slit your wrists with a fucking plastic razor." Then, she ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife, and went back into the tub.

She winced in pain as the knife broke her skin. _It's not like this in the movies. They're committing suicide and it doesn't hurt. Why does this hurt?_ Tears found their way out of her eyes as she drew it vertically down her veins. The water she was sitting in turned red. There was so much blood... blood everywhere she looked. She felt weazy at the sight of all of her contaminated blood. More slashes, more cuts, more blood. Her head felt light and the room spun around her, moving faster every second.

The knife fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

There was a splash as a lifeless body became buried in bloody water.

* * *

There you have it! I hope you enjoyed this fic, and thank you for your great reviews! 


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